The Lost Item

"Say something, Harry!"

Amosta, Hagrid, and Harry were each preoccupied with their own thoughts, and no one spoke. Ron was beside himself with impatience. One moment he curiously studied Amosta, the next he secretly winked and gestured at Harry, keeping himself thoroughly busy.

Amosta was the first to break the deadlock. He nodded at Harry with a gentle smile.

"Last night, I spent the night in Professor Snape's quarters. He had a frank talk with me about what he thinks of you."

Harry's pounding heart seemed to be suddenly gripped by an icy hand, and a bone-deep chill swept through his entire body from within.

He did not need to ask what sort of assessment Snape would have given. Harry clenched his fists uneasily. Just as he racked his brains for something to say in his own defense, Amosta's next words pulled him back from the abyss of fear.

"Of course, those assessments only represent Professor Snape's personal views, and they may not be objective. Personally, I believe that if you want to understand someone, you must observe them with your own eyes. Blindly trusting other people's opinions is unwise."

Harry's raised shoulders abruptly sagged, like a suffocating man finally breathing fresh air again.

Looking at the terribly nervous young wizard, Amosta smiled to himself. He could probably understand why Harry Potter had acted so timidly around him.

Under normal circumstances, Amosta might have teased him a little longer. But the information that had suddenly surfaced in his mind had robbed him of any desire for mischief. He needed to hurry and confirm a few things.

"By the way, Hagrid, I forgot to tell you—the one who commissioned me to investigate the Chamber of Secrets was not the Ministry of Magic, but Hogwarts' Board of Governors—"

He exchanged a few pleasantries with the hunched-over Hagrid, then quickly departed with brisk steps. As he passed the turn in the stairs, Amosta suddenly remembered something and waved at Hagrid, who was standing above him, before vanishing from sight.

Once Amosta's footsteps had completely faded away, the three people by the stairs let out a breath in unison. Ron immediately voiced his opinion impatiently.

"He's really scary, isn't he?"

Ron's ears were bright red, and he looked exceptionally excited. "When he looked at me, it felt like I was facing Dumbledore. He seems friendly enough, but you still don't dare breathe too loudly!"

"He really does feel different!"

Harry, whose fright had finally subsided, immediately nodded in agreement. Remembering Mr. Breen's highly distinctive eyes, he secretly compared them to Dumbledore's piercing gaze, trying to decide which was more formidable.

"I never thought a wizard from Slytherin could speak to people without putting on that disgusting slick manner or sneering sarcastically—and still be so polite. Right, Hagrid?"

Perhaps because Amosta had not even mentioned questioning him, all the anxiety Harry had felt that morning vanished like smoke. His spirits rose, and once his worries had been set aside, his curiosity naturally surged back to the surface.

"Mr. Breen was just here, Hagrid. If you had questions, why didn't you ask him directly?"

Hagrid did not answer Harry's challenge. His cheeks bulged as he stared blankly at the turn in the stairs, wearing the expression of someone with a dead rat stuffed in his mouth.

"Aha, a wonderful misunderstanding!"

Harry and Ron jumped at the eerie sound Hagrid suddenly made. Before either could complain, Hagrid broke into a dazzling smile.

"I understand now. It was the Board of Governors, not the Ministry of Magic. They probably just wanted to go through the motions!"

"What are you talking about, Hagrid?" Harry and Ron exchanged a glance. Ron frowned. "Do you have to be so mysterious?"

"I already told you, Ron!"

Hagrid happily raised one finger and waved it before them. "I haven't hidden anything from you... Sorry, Harry, but I have to get back now. Fang is still at home waiting for me to feed him. I don't want him tearing apart my bed because he can't find anything to eat!"

As he passed through the Entrance Hall, Amosta stopped to glance into the Great Hall. Professor Snape seemed to have already left Hogwarts and gone home, while Professor McGonagall was still busy in her little office. Not a single professor was in the empty hall. At the Slytherin table, he saw only two enormous young wizards crammed together and stuffing themselves, utterly unaware of Amosta's gaze.

Those two students' hearty appetites made Amosta rub his stomach again. However, he did not go inside, instead heading straight into the passage leading underground.

He had walked this dark, maze-like underground passage for seven whole years. Even though he had been gone for three, the memories etched into his body still allowed him to identify the way without a moment's thought.

"Oh, I forgot there was a password!"

Amosta came to a dark brown stone wall and slapped his forehead in annoyance.

Amosta had only two choices before him now: either wait here and see whether anyone came in or out, or cross the underground passage again and seek help from the two Slytherin students in the Great Hall. Amosta frowned and thought for two seconds before deciding on a third option.

"Glory—"

Amosta muttered at the stone wall, but nothing happened.

"All right, apparently not that. Then... let me think—sacred family?"

The stone wall remained motionless. Amosta furrowed his brow and tried several more times. Finally, he made an uncertain guess. "Pure-blood?"

Click—the stone door finally opened in response.

"Ha ha, same old routine!"

Amosta smiled happily, immensely proud of his cleverness. He stepped through the wall and surveyed the changes in the Slytherin Common Room.

Located deep underground beside the Black Lake, the common room was as gloomy and green-tinged as ever, with a faint fishy smell of water weeds hanging in the air. Even the roaring fireplace could not save it from its sinister, eerie atmosphere.

"I thought it would be another two hours before I saw you two back!"

A lazy voice came from a high-backed chair facing away from the door before the fireplace. Its owner apparently had not entirely emerged from puberty, making the voice sound particularly shrill and caustic.

"Don't tell me you two finally ate Hogwarts into bankruptcy?"

"I assume you must be Draco Malfoy."

Clang!

The instant he heard Amosta's voice, Draco threw down his quill. He reacted within a second, hurling himself behind a nearby sofa. By the time he landed, his wand was already in his hand.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?"

Amosta's eyelids twitched slightly. The quick reaction displayed by the blond, gray-eyed young wizard in the face of danger surprised him somewhat.

"Don't be nervous, Mr. Malfoy."

Amosta ignored the fact that a wand was pointed at him and smiled easily. "My name is Amosta Breen... Um, may I sit down, Mr. Malfoy...?"

"So that means—"

Twenty minutes later, after Amosta had finally explained his background, Malfoy's eyes gleamed sharply. He lifted his chin and scrutinized Amosta as though assessing whether a household servant was qualified.

"My father sent you? I assume you know that he's one of the twelve members of this school's Board of Directors. How strange. I thought he'd find a way to drive that old fool Dumbledore out of the school, but in the end, his solution was to send you here?"

Amosta was not at all surprised by the arrogance displayed by young Mr. Malfoy. He was a Slytherin, after all. Back when Amosta had attended school, he had known perfectly well what those descendants of pure-blood families were like.

But... Lucius Malfoy was planning to drive Dumbledore out of the school?

That was interesting news. So that was why he had joined forces with the Greengrass Family to vote against it—because he feared Amosta would ruin his plans?

"Right... since you're an Investigator!"

Draco Malfoy's pale face suddenly flushed red, as though he had just remembered something.

"That Gryffindor saint Potter—the legendary Harry Potter. I'm sure you've heard of him!"

Malfoy sprang to his feet, glaring wide-eyed at Amosta. "What authority do you have, Breen? Can you expel students? If you can help me get him thrown out of school, I can have my father give you a huge sum of money!"

Amosta had long grown accustomed to that haughty manner of speaking. Leaning back against the soft chair, he replied in an even tone.

"If I understand correctly, Mr. Malfoy, you're reporting to me that Harry Potter is Slytherin's Heir, is that right?"

"I didn't say that." Malfoy failed to notice that Amosta was no longer smiling and muttered quietly, "A lowlife who only hangs around Mudbloods and willingly debases himself—how could he possibly have anything to do with the great Slytherin?"

Amosta's expression shifted slightly. Even among the descendants of pure-blood wizards, Draco Malfoy had a particularly distinct "personality."

"But what does that matter!"

Malfoy suddenly turned back around, waving his arms in irritation. "Breen, I just need Potter to leave the school. If you need an excuse, then I can tell you—he's a Parselmouth. I'm sure you know what that means!"

"Ah—"

Amosta sat up straight, his gaze flickering. Snape had not mentioned this to him last night... If even the young Slytherins knew about it, there was no reason Snape would not.

"You have indeed told me something interesting, Mr. Malfoy."

Amosta nodded at Malfoy. "But I regret to inform you that I do not have the authority to expel students. And unless we confirm who attacked Creevey and Filius Flitwick, I will not recommend that Headmaster Dumbledore expel him either."

"You weren't sent by my father."

Malfoy's face immediately turned cold. He understood now. This man did not seem to be on his side.

"Then what are you doing here?" Malfoy sneered. "Do you think I opened the Chamber of Secrets, so you want to send me to Azkaban?"

"Actually, it's like this."

Amosta stood up with a smile.

"It's rather embarrassing to say... When I attended this school, I seem to have hidden something in the dormitory. But for some reason, I later forgot all about it. It wasn't until just now, after being somewhat provoked, that I remembered..."

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